Thursday, 14 February 2013

...............“I must complain the cards are ill-shuffled till I have a good hand.” — Swift

"Believing something will happen Because I don’t want it to
And that some other thing won’t Because I do --” I wailed to the dealer --
“This is desperation.” “Yeah?” he said. But then by Your graceful lines, your lioness’ mane, Your heat as you returned from Your day in the jungle, you relieved me from What in myself was desperate,
What even now insists on wishing And believing. Still in the sheen of finely-breathing Blond hair that covers you, By the flashing way you move from tree To tree, and from room to room,
Making it a bright full house, I find at least the light to see the cards I am dealt.